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There were few things better in life than hanging out with your best bud, catching some sweet score like for free. Maybe spending time with a hot girl, but considering their current options - which were decidedly female-free -
Tiberius was pretty certain they had attained the pinnacle of their day.

Bob had the best part of their score - and the rest had been primo swag - and even from his place running beside the giant ginger tom Tiberius caught whiffs of the heady Nepeta cataria from the punctures in the bag held in his teeth. Now their biggest issue was where to imbibe. Too bad they couldn't like, hot box the s**t out of themselves, just live surrounded in the scent...

...or could they?

Smokestack! An idea began to formulate in Tiberius' brain and he flicked his tail in a manner most pleased. "Do I ever, Bobby-boy. We gotta head to the HQ though." It would be a trek, but it would be well worth the effort, really.

"Gonna be so good..." He knew Bob would accept his suggestion, Bob trusted him - just like he trusted Bob. They were bros, they had each other's backs. And that was why they made the long-a** trek to Romano's to use the cat-door into the Mauvian HQ and down, down, down into Goblin Town the mostly abandoned hallway where Faustite's broom closet was located.

"He's got no sense of humor, at all. Poor guy. I keep trying to help but...some people are beyond feline intervention. Still, he's not so bad..."

For once the door wasn't shut and both cats could go in - unfortunately Faustite wasn't there. "The hell is he?! Wait...oh--" The Mauvian pulled out his communicator and checked the time, "My bad, he's never in his room right now. Sorry man." Bob would forgive him, probably. He was just a liiiiittle bit high on edibles already. And if a bit more of a nature hike required, it was still worth it, right?

Thank ******** Smokestack has a schedule or this would be hard. Once more into the breach, off to the library where Faustite would no doubt be making use of those benches that didn't force him to hunch over like some weird Frankenstein monster.

And wouldn't you just know...he was there! Tiberius was so pleased he made the entire approach to the half-youma's work space with his tail curled up in victory. "C'mon Bob." So studious. So intent. So about to be reading Tiberius' fur patterns.

"Hey Smokestack, how's it going~? Oh wow this looks interesting....Sooo~ This is Bob. Bob, this is Smokestack." Was he being a one-cat wrecking ball? He was definitely being a one-cat wrecking ball. I hope you enjoy my stripes, kid.

He followed without question - when the Mauvian had an idea, the Mauvian had an idea and Bob knew better than to second guess his clever counterpart. So off they went, bag still toting around in Bob's mouth as they made their way towards the Negaspace, where "Smokestack" supposedly lingered.

Upon arrival into the library, the Maine Coon felt the hairs on his back begin to bristle at the sensation of a youma in their midst. Was this a... no, it wasn't a trap, it seemed everything was right and in order, strangely enough.

Tibs seemed to know the creature. Humanoid? Twisted excuse for a man? Whatever he went by, he seemed appreciative of the cat's presence and Bob felt himself grow at ease.

Dropping the bag where he stood, the large feline proceeded to plop down precisely where he was standing, fluffy tail taking its time swishing back and forth, collecting invisible dust from the Negaverse flooring. As much as he adored pets and strokes, he still wasn't familiar with this youma - or partial youma - enough to approach for his share of affection.

"Superior? Oh, that's cute." His head tilted as he studied the small fry - well, small, human size. He still towered over the cats but hell, who didn't?

"I like this guy, Tibby - where'd you pluck him up from? The Rift?"

The other cat maintained space enough to act respectful — more than Faustite could say for Tiberius' often demanding demeanor. But while the orange feline sat at his uncertain distance, his diction suggested he was cut of the same cloth as his striped cohort. Faustite suspected well enough that the pair were up to something, likely something Stroud would approve of in her vulgar way, though the captain could not guess what.

The orange one's wry remark received its own defensive reply. "I was human once." Fingers rapped on the groaning table and curled into a small fist. "And I never lived in the Rift."

A paw to the face interrupted any further comment, and Faustite reached to push the prodding, beaned puffs away from his chin. He never fancied the smell of the cat after their parking garage business, and spoke of it seldom since. Suspicion grew on the words 'cat business', and only continued as Tibs urged attention toward his friend's bag. Catnip, by the guess. Neck muscles flexed and tightened with impending disapproval, and a glance at the Lovecraft-infringing feline confirmed that he was putting on his used salesman charade.

But for all the cat's unseemly behaviors, he offered an escape from an otherwise unconscionably dull read. And if Tiberius had some plot with that catnip, and catnip did indeed affect their otherworldly felines, then maybe there was a chance its influence reached beyond Felis catus familiaris.. He might find some personal gain.

Or he might discover more sordid plans that he could report with haste to his general. Earn Tibs an operation, perhaps.

Black eyes darted between orange and striped furbags, before at last settling on Tibs. He licked his lips in thought. His fist relaxed, and he shooed the overgrown guardian off his overblown book. "Fine, but Schörl didn't dig me out of the Rift. And we can't take too long.

"What's your experiment?"

With a sly look over at Bob, Tiberius allowed himself to be scooted off his Lovecraftian Tush Cushion; taking a moment to shift the ball that was his midsection in a really nice stretch that left his back paws lingering just long enough on the page to be deliberate and obnoxious before flouncing over to join his tie-wearing companion. "Oh, we can definitely human."

It was something Tibs was looking forward to very much, the having of hands. Fingers. Opposable thumbs with which to do all his detail work on his own, rather than having to borrow some janky human scrub's hands.

As much s**t as he liked to give Faustite, Tiberius would not have called him stupid and meant it, he knew the half-youma would catch on quickly, so allowed his partner in crime to lay out the smoothness while he simply sat, smug and fluffy and oh-so-pleased next to Bob during the sleazy lawyer routine.

"Very scientific, of course. Need to record the efficacy of the catnip's effects when delivered via this method. Could be a really grand way to help our side. Or you know, knock out the other side's Mauvians." Yep. He'd totally thought about that before this moment. Absolutely. He'd seen a Mythbusters episode once and the goofy ginger had said the difference between science and screwing around was writing it down, so. Hopefully that would be enough scientific method for Faustite to capitulate, cooperate.

"Oh he comes with conditions, does he? Cute, I like it."

It was clear that Tibs went back (perhaps not way back) with the youma-kid enough to warrant their request. Maybe the kid owed him a favor. Maybe the kid just wanted a break from whatever boring read he was currently trying to consume (Bob was pretty sure that no nude mag was ever that thick nor did the book in question look to even have pictures in it - blasphemy!).

"It's not like we're doing anything illegal, Smokestack."

Seeing (and seizing) the opportunity, paws found and scaled their way up the Captain, Bob mindful not to scratch the poor bloke or get too close to the smokestacks in question. If the Mau didn't have to walk, he certainly wasn't going to.

Offering a head bump and impromptu nuzzle as his form of appreciation, the large orange feline settled in on one shoulder, legs draping off the side of the man's arm as if he were a lounge chair and not a Negaverse Captain. The bag of stuff was nestled between the front two paws, which stayed connected with the man's uniform, lest he be tossed off with his first few steps.

"But if embarrassment is what you're worried about - don't be. It's a high honor to be requested for Mau experimentation, trust us."

'It's not like we're doing anything illegal, Smokestack.'

If only you were. It'd make more of a point.

Faustite waited while the pair of Maus jostled him. Twenty pounds to each shoulder placed more strain alongside the metal fittings in his back, which left him exceedingly top=heavy in the moments before he adjusted his balance. When he was certain the pair wouldn't themselves fly off or send him pitching forward, he shut his novel (as he knew no one would steal such garbage) and started for the shallow vestibule. Beyond was the hallway, long and narrow and lined with the jutting teeth of stalactites.

"You're ridiculous, Faustite muttered under his breath at his General's Mau. And the other one was likely no better; Bob kept up the smooth chatting that Tiberius was so prone to, though Bob was less prone to running his mouth for ages. His right shoulder was, therefore, more tolerable than the left. Atlas Shrugged came to mind.

This is all ridiculous. This is unreal. This is a terrible idea. The thoughts circulated as a mantra while he traced his way through spidering corridors. Century-stained brickwork and jutting, ominous crystal passed with each step. Doorways broken, rotted, or thick with the sludge and filth of ages reached him every eight steps or so. And when he found the proper door, one with its black silt scooped out from where the door's stamped letters were nearly worn away, he opened it to let inside himself and the pair of cats.

The room — closet, rather — sat in pitch until he fumbled for the oil lamp. Half a minute passed before he had it flaring to illuminate the room, setting shadows dancing from their shackles.

Faustite sank down carefully on the strip of padding that formed his bed. "I'll lay on my back. I don't what to know what you're doing." He shot each of them a look, then left them to begin their 'experiment'.